


Voice of No Return

by Marshmallows



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Living Together, M/M, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:04:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmallows/pseuds/Marshmallows
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a lonely boy who met a lonely merman, and this is the story of how they learned to stay together.





	Voice of No Return

**Author's Note:**

> (Repost from _[Come Home Safe](https://feendrache.dreamwidth.org/2823.html)_ )

The first time they had met was when Vane had almost died.

His parents had recently departed from this world, an unfortunate possibility when monsters roamed so freely outside villages; but Vane, at his age, refused to believe this was now set into reality. He stared at the shore, snippets of rumours and whispers of promises in his ears: of how he needn’t be so lonely when he would meet his parents again at the edge of the water. 

It was ridiculous, he concluded years after the fact, but he was a child back then and he would have done anything to see them again. Spurred on by what he had heard, Vane grasped tight at this chance, desperate for a solution in a senseless world. 

Before long, the world had turned dark, everything constricting – from his vision to his lungs – when suddenly, as the light began to fade, he was vaguely aware of being held, and wondered if his wish had really come true. 

Almost everything after that was a blur. Vane must have coughed out his lungs, spluttered back to life and curled up into himself as everything came back to him. He was cold and wet and everything hurt, but as he lifted his head from the grit of the sand, he was taken aback. 

What he would always remember was gazing into the brightest pair of eyes he had ever seen. They shone like the clear blue water itself, and Vane could see himself shivering and crying, deep in their depths. They were hard to forget, not when he would see them constantly over the years. 

That was their first meeting – but not their last.

* * *

“Hey! Heeeey!” 

The next time they had met was after Vane had called his lungs out. 

Vane didn’t quite know the meaning of ‘giving up’, so that even after his throat was sore and his voice was turning shrill, he was still calling out to the sea in the hope of a lost friend. His tenacity was rewarded when someone finally surfaced up out of the water – black hair, blue eyes like he remembered – the top of his head turning this way and that. Vane stumbled to the water’s edge, teetering on his toes to ensure he would not touch the tide. 

“Look, look, this is you, right?” Vane brandished a book that was almost the width of his entire arm, to proudly show him his discovery. The blue eyes blinked, long and slow, but still he remained away from the water’s edge. 

“A… mer… maid… Right?” Vane read out loud from the pages, before he revealed his biggest smile, “Thank you, Mr Mermaid!”

The merman stayed still; until the water began to ripple and Vane jumped because he thought he was moving forward. Alas, his head disappeared back underwater and Vane was alone again; but Vane, who did not know how to give up, would constantly return to the shore as the years went by. 

“Hey, hey! It’s me, Vane!” 

The next time, and the next, and the next time after that, Vane would call in this way. He would visit the shore in an almost fanatical routine, flitting back between his village and the sea every time he had the chance. It was a good walk away, so Vane would always have to leave before the sun would set, but visiting the merman was important to him and sticking to the same route meant that he wouldn’t get lost like he usually did. It was remarkable what a little determination could do, when mixed with the hindsight of fear, in preparing him for the long road ahead. 

At first, his grandmother, who he now lived with, fretted at his fascination with the creature; until she realised it might do him some good to be out of doors and recovering from his grief. She never did stop worrying every time he slipped away however; but Vane was brave, almost to the point of recklessness, now that he had a purpose. In all of the village, only she had believed him when he had said he had been saved by a merman (‘a child’s whimsy, they’re not real, you never see them any more’), but Vane knew he was real, because the merman would always appear to him at the water’s edge. He would never come near, but he would always be there, and Vane had made it his mission to befriend his benefactor.

“You’re always on your own, Mr Mermaid. Do you have any friends? Any family?” Vane asked at a break neck speed. The merman only stared at him, blue eyes reflecting the ocean, “Don’t worry, I’ll always come visit you!”

Even if he was just a pair of eyes at first, Vane had noticed that the top of his head had inched closer and closer, and the time he would have to keep yelling had shortened with each subsequent visit. He remained distant however; until that day when Vane was late for one of his visits. The merman was already peeking out of the water that day when Vane stumbled into view, taking up his usual spot on the shore without another word, already trying his hardest not to crumble on the spot. 

“Hey, Mr Mermaid… I know you won’t tell anyone, like Grandma, since you can’t talk and all… But sometimes, I…” Vane hesitated, the words clogging his throat, rendering him silent; so instead he buried his face into his arms upon his knees. 

In the darkness of his shelter, he thought he heard the sound of flowing water. Vane looked up, only to be surprised when he was suddenly face to face with the merman himself. Clear blue eyes stared up at him, offering him a mirror of his own wretched despair, just like the day when they had first met. It was the first time he had properly looked into his face since then. His eyes, up close, were still as enchanting as he had remembered.

The merman flinched back when he noticed Vane staring; but Vane only laughed, the tears he had been holding back trickling down his cheeks. He seemed shocked at his own wet cheeks for a moment, before he rubbed at his face stubbornly, marking his cheeks red as he tried to scrub his sadness away. 

“I’m okay! Don’t worry about me!” Vane said, flashing him a grin, only to disturb the tears waiting in his eyes. They fell down his cheeks, as helpless as he felt, and Vane folded into his own arms again.

He could still feel the merman’s gaze on him however, and Vane self consciously tucked his legs further in. He was startled upright when something cold touched his arm, frozen to the spot as he wondered what he was doing; only to watch in stunned silence as the merman brushed his hand against Vane’s tear stained cheek. Vane burst into red at the contact, and though his hand was cold from the ocean water, the heat from his own cheeks pervaded his senses. He scrambled to his feet and they stared at one another in a stalemate; Vane rooted to the spot as he struggled to think of a response. 

The merman hesitated. The tide began to wane. The shore was now sand, the ocean retreating back, but the merman stayed by Vane’s side, quietly watching over him. He towered over him as a child, though his aura remained gentle and kind; a spring breeze calming his swollen eyes. The merman’s hand hovered in the air for a single moment, before he committed himself to the action and stroked Vane’s hair with a hesitant finger. 

Vane broke like a dam. Tears ran down without restraint, his face scrunching as he began to hiccup. He tackled the merman, clasping his arms around him tight, his bawling muffled into his chest. The merman stayed still, cradling him close and stroking his hair with his hand, a wave of comfort calming him down from a swell to a buoy at sea, until Vane was silent and at peace. 

“I have to go now, Mr Mermaid… Thank you for taking care of me, and I’m sorry for crying…” Vane raised a hand to wave, and the merman paused for a moment before realising he should copy him. 

Every subsequent visit after that, the merman would come out of the water without fail, listening to Vane talk and babble about his day. He wasn’t quite sure how much of his rambling got through to him, but he was ever thankful for the merman’s continued presence. He was fascinating and beautiful and all kinds of other wonderful words, but what burned desperately on his tongue whilst impossible to ask was why he had chose to save him. He supposed his way of talking at him was somehow just his wish of being able to talk _with_ him; and so, he talked and the merman would listen, and Vane would hope that somehow he understood.

Time passed quickly simply wishing and dreaming as a child. He had seemed so tall to him when he was young. To think that he used to be so much smaller, and now as a teenager, he was rapidly catching up to him. 

“Hey, hey! What’s your name? I can’t keep saying ‘hey’…” Vane said one day. He could now stand up and look him directly in the eye, as the merman sat on the shore beside him, a fish tail of stunning cobalt blue before him. He looked so human – if he ignored his tail, his webbed hands, the fins upon his body and the fact that he hadn’t seemed to have aged a day since they had first met.

The merman replied with a quiet chime. His hair after it was dry was a mass of unruly curls. 

Vane pointed excitedly at himself, “Vane!”

The merman paused for a moment, before he attempted something that actually sounded similar. Vane had always known their tongues were worlds apart, but that had never stopped him from trying. He never did learn the meaning of ‘giving up’ after all these years. 

“Vane! Vane!” Vane repeated, punctuating with his pointing. 

“Fa…” The merman seemed just as shocked as Vane when this one syllable slipped out, immediately clapping his hand to his mouth like he had said something wrong. 

“Oh! Oh! You’re really smart, Mr Mermaid Man!” Vane said, as he cheerily clapped. 

It was never empty praise that Vane dispensed, years having passed now, of progress and practice, of growing side by side as they learned human words and the alphabet together. School wasn’t compulsory in his village, but enrolling as a knight in the capital was a mere pipe dream for one without exceptional talent or genius or anyone to properly guide him, to properly dig him out of the hole that was his commoner status. It wasn’t his first choice, but Vane made the best out of things. ‘Futility’ wasn’t in his own dictionary after all, and it was paying off, because the merman was a fast learner, already demonstrating the ability to recognise certain words out of Vane’s usual chatter. So, Vane continued to bring him books and pencils alongside his own homework, and they’d spend days into afternoons merely side by side on the shore.

“I don’t get this, Mr Merman… Think you’ll get it if I read it to you?” Vane said, planting himself down as he began to do so. Their heights were equal now, though perhaps Vane inched over a little bit because of his posture as a human. His voice had broke, he was growing more confident, but the merman had still never changed his appearance. He had always appeared before him as a young man in his late twenties, but even after some twenty years of his own, they did not seem to have weathered the merman, as if he existed in a space of his own: ever constant, ever timeless. 

“Hey, Mr Merman…” Vane said one day, a whole basket of food perched on his arm, “Hm? I made it! Is it good?”

It was a recipe from his mother’s cookbook, the pages stained yellow with age, but Vane had always kept it in good condition, to the best of his ability. When he had realised that the merman had nothing but fish in the ocean – a stunning realisation that day for sure – he began bringing him a variety of dishes; though he noticed his favourites were often sweet, and Vane made more of a habit to bake. Alongside another variety of things, he supposed that this was his way of expressing his gratitude.

He gave a pat to his stomach to mime eating, prompting the merman to immediately shoot upright, ready to dive into the ocean at a moment’s notice, and Vane had to hold him back, “No, no, I don’t need any fish today,” Vane said, laughing at his eagerness. The merman stared at him for a moment, before finally relaxing. Vane still remembered the days when he’d need his help to catch fish. Bringing home their catch would always sweeten his grandmother just a little bit, but still she worried as was in her nature. He was smaller then. His hand wouldn’t have been able to grip his arm so firmly back then.

“Here!” Vane said as he grinned, holding the macaron out for him to eat. Without hesitating, the merman dove forward and gulped it into his mouth, his lips catching Vane’s fingers and sending a jolt down his arm, right through his body. Vane sat there, shocked in confusion, as the merman blissfully chewed away, tingling with joy at the discovery of sugar.

“Hey, hey, hey~o! I’m sorry I haven’t been around in a while…” Vane said sheepishly, a few days later than his usual routine. The merman had immediately surfaced upon hearing his first shout, “We had a town festival, so work’s been busy…”

It was obvious that the merman was kind of sad, a pout actually on his face, the guilt sinking into Vane’s stomach as he watched him pretend otherwise. Vane didn’t have the free time he had as a child, not now when he had responsibilities serving in the townsguard. He did try at least, and the merman did understand, but that never did stop feelings from interfering with their rational decisions. Not wanting to waste a second, Vane eagerly planted himself down onto his usual spot on the shore, taking out today’s selection of books from his bag. 

“Oh! You want this book again?” Vane said brightly, the merman nodding vigorously when his hand had merely skimmed the cover. 

Even if they couldn’t talk to each other, the merman seemed to enjoy the vibrations of Vane’s voice. He wasn’t sure exactly how much he understood these days, even after they had gone through so many of his books. He’d perk up at certain words, stare at him blankly with others, but it was not like Vane would suddenly pop out a literacy test for him to take. He would never induct someone upon that torture that were human made standardised tests. There had never been a doubt in his mind that he was intelligent however.

“Say… Mr Merman… For so long, I haven’t had a name for you…” Vane said quietly, as he closed the covers of a book reread so many times that he could recite passages from it. The merman perked up, lifting his head from his usual place on Vane’s shoulder, an expectant smile on his face. A single look at his gallant hero, and Vane knew, without a doubt, what to say next, “How about ‘Lancelot’, like from this book you really like? Lan-ce-lot…”

“Lan… Lan… ze…” The merman mimicked the movements of Vane’s mouth, but alas, his lack of human vocal cords caused him to take pause. Vane still remembered when the merman had barely been able to say his name, so that all his attempts always made Vane light up in encouragement. 

“Might be a bit long for you…” Vane said, pausing to think. He grinned immediately upon his realisation, “How about… ‘Lan-chan’?”

“Lan… chan…” As the syllables left his mouth, Lancelot – or ‘Lan-chan’ as he was now known – pursed his lips, his cheeks flushed. 

“Yeah!” Vane beamed, “Let’s go with that from now on! Lan-chan!” 

A moment’s pause passed as the name sank into their heads, until Lancelot lifted his head, “Fane…” 

“Oh! Oh!” Vane beamed even brighter, just as he did every time he attempted his name. 

“Fane…” Alas, Lancelot dropped his head, his voice noticeably sadder with his second attempt. 

“We’ll get there!” Vane said quickly. He opened his mouth wide to accentuate the movements of his lips, “Va… Va…”

“Va…” Lancelot copied him like always; but this time, he pursed his lips and shook his head. What came out next was a rushed jumble of chimes, tumbling over each other with the speed that Lancelot was desperately trying to speak in. There was a certain chime that Lancelot always used peppered into his speech, one that Vane had taken to mean his own name in his tongue, but before Vane could even process what anything meant, Lancelot had taken his hand into both of his in a silent prayer. 

“Sorry?” Vane said automatically, before remembering that he actually knew the equivalent in Lancelot’s respective language. A quiet, sheepish sound came out of his mouth, one that he had heard Lancelot use frequently in the past. He wasn’t quite sure if he ever did merfolk language right, but that train of thought had never stopped him meowing at his own cat. 

Lancelot shook his head, his hair flying with the movement. His gaze burned into Vane, until he turned his head to the water and back, but Vane’s gaze fell limply to the floor.

“You know I’ve said…” Vane said weakly, “… that I can’t swim…”

More chimes fell out of Lancelot’s mouth, and then he shuffled in close. He hummed his next words, the ensuing vibrations melting into Vane’s skin, but Vane was too preoccupied in listening to his own rapidly beating heart. 

“‘Thank’… ‘Thank you’?” Vane said at last, picking out the phrase from the few chimes he had learnt over the years. 

At last, Lancelot nodded, a bright smile on his face, a happy chime coming out of his lips. He lifted his head to look at him, now inches away from Vane’s face, and Vane forgot how to breathe for that single moment. 

“Ah, um… No biggie… It’s just a name… Lan-chan…” Vane said, turning his head sharply away. Quickly, he scrambled for a distraction, “R-Right, let’s see… Think we got time for one more book.”

His heart plummeted as Lancelot held up a book aloft. It was a romance novel, the classic kind of fairy tale, one they had read before under completely different circumstances, but Lancelot had already settled back into his position on his shoulder and Vane didn’t have the heart to deny him. Vane could feel his heart thudding stupidly in his chest, but he didn’t have much time with the sun’s light still overhead, and before he would need to navigate his way back home in the dark, Vane braved this final book.

Everything seemed fine. His voice was a little shaky at first, which prompted Lancelot’s concern, but he quickly set himself back onto his shoulder when Vane reassured him he was fine. 

That was until, he turned to the next page, and of course, there was an illustration of a kiss. Immediately, he felt Lancelot perk up. 

“That… That’s just…" Vane stammered, feeling a cold sweat form upon his brow. 

“Fane,” Lancelot turned back to him with just that one word. It was the shape of his mouth that formed his name that made Vane lean forward into the space that divided them.

The kiss upon his lips was so abrupt that Vane had thought Lancelot had stole his breath. He had only ever thought about who his first kiss would be, but never the ‘what it would be like’ of that same question. Perhaps picture perfect like the illustration, romantic like the stories; but Vane only seemed to have noticed how everything stopped, everything shrinking into that closed distance between them. All of a sudden, he could see his dark eyelashes up close, his wide bright blue eyes, feel the softness of his lips. He never did imagine what Lancelot would taste like, but it seemed obvious it would be like the ocean itself. 

Vane pulled back after an age, after remembering that he had lungs that required him to breathe, blinking to finally awaken himself from his dream. 

“I… I have to go!” Vane spluttered, immediately scrambling to his feet. Lancelot flinched at the sand scattering upwards, but by the time he had recovered, Vane had already disappeared into the woods beyond the shore, and Lancelot, without legs to run after him, could only softly chime his name.

* * *

It was several days before Vane was back staring out into the waves. He had wanted to go back immediately the next day, but memories of his kiss resurfaced in his mind and he collapsed onto his bed in a flurry of embarrassment, and then the next day he was stricken with guilt for not going the previous day – until it was the next week, and Vane, in a sudden fit of panic, realised he was halfway between his house and the shore already. 

Vane tightened his fists, steeling his resolve, but before he had even opened his mouth to announce his presence, he had already spotted Lancelot, sitting dejected by the rocks. He was accompanied by the books he had abandoned that day, his brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously studied the pages. The moment Vane stepped forward, the sand crunching under his feet, Lancelot was alert, snapping his head round to check for the source of the sound. 

The look on his face all but froze him in place. All Vane could do was mimic a quiet apologetic sound, his shoulders scrunched up, his eyes trained to the floor. 

“Vane…” 

It was a beautiful sound that made Vane lift his head: his name in his voice. 

“Lan-chan! That’s…” Vane stared at him in absolute wonder. Without waiting for an explanation, he sprinted towards Lancelot, almost stumbling on the sand in his haste, clinging to the rocks as he leapt across them. 

“Vane…” Lancelot continued once he had reached him, bowing his head down, “So-rry…”

“No, no! I’m the one that needs to say sorry! I… I…” Vane sighed, picking at his brain for the words that floated in his head – but his mind drew a blank, and Vane bellowed as he held his head in frustration. He shot down to his haunches, clutching his head in his hands, Lancelot left to look up at him in confusion. He jumped as soon as Vane shot his head back up, determination set in his eyes as he leaned forward. 

“Look, I’m really sorry! I didn’t mean to just run away after I did that! I just… I was really confused and really worried, and I didn’t know what to do with myself! But I thought for ages and ages and I think I have feelings for you, and…” Vane stopped himself as he watched Lancelot’s confused face, wilting as he realised everything he was saying, “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”

He retreated into a ball of his own hands, hiding away his burning face, and wished the ground would just shallow him up. It was merely a simple touch that coaxed him out of his shell, Vane looking up at his prompt.

“Lan-”

It didn’t take much to silence Vane, just Lancelot’s lips on his. He staggered backwards to land ungracefully onto his butt, but Lancelot continued, merely pushing forward in his advance. 

Vane pulled back for a moment, “Lan-chan-”

Vane was cut off, his lips immediately being sealed shut by another kiss. He had to admit he didn’t quite know what he was meant to be doing; but feeling connected to him like this – his taste, his quickening breathing, the warmth of his body – sent a surge of electricity throughout his body. He breathed hard, his fingers tangling into Lancelot’s hair.

Vane pulled back again, “Lan-chan-”

If Vane had thought he could talk after such a reunion, he needed to think otherwise, Lancelot pulling him back in. It should have seemed obvious that a merman had a larger capacity for holding his breath, but Vane still wasn’t thinking right, his mind reeling as Lancelot parted his lips with his tongue.

Vane whimpered against his mouth, “Lan-chan…”

Alas, Vane really did need to breathe, and he pulled back to clamp his hand over Lancelot’s mouth before he could kiss him again. He could hear himself panting hard, his face reddening as he tried desperately to avoid being drawn into Lancelot’s wide eyes. As his breath quietened down, and all he could hear was the sound of the waves against the shore, Vane slowly lifted his hand. 

“Vane!” Lancelot immediately spluttered as soon as his mouth was freed. 

“S-So that was okay? You didn’t mind? You’re not mad?” Vane pleaded, eyebrows furrowed with his guilt.

“Vane…” Lancelot said quietly, his face softening. He fell forward into Vane’s arms, his hold tightening around his back. From this angle, Vane could see his tail notably flick. 

“Lan-chan…” Vane mumbled, closing his eyes as he rested his head against Lancelot’s. 

They stayed still like that for a while, simply feeling the rise and fall of each other’s bodies, until Vane’s butt had a cramp and they decided to move themselves, and his books, back to their familiar spot on the shore. It was only a short distance, Lancelot diving into the water to move, but seeing him soak in the water made Vane wonder, with another pang of guilt, how long he had stayed out.

They returned to their regular exchange as easily as if nothing had happened, Vane reading to him and Lancelot resting on his shoulder to feel the vibrations of his voice. Everything was back to normal, as the sun began to set and Vane closed his book, until Lancelot lifted his head to look at him, and Vane’s heart skipped. It seemed natural then, for Lancelot simply to lean forward and press his lips to his. 

For just this one night, Vane stayed beyond the sun leaving the horizon, the stars setting into the darkening sky. He still felt that feeling of dread, ingrained to him since he was young, since he learned how fragile human lives were in a world of monsters; but Lancelot was resting so peacefully on his shoulder that Vane did not dare disturb him. It was a contrast of comfort against his thudding heart, to hold Lancelot’s hand in his, to feel his calm breathing.

Once Vane had watched the sky turn to black, he finally stirred. 

“I… I should get going… It’s pretty dark now… I’m sorry…” Vane said quietly.

They stared at each other: a stalemate. Lancelot only smiled tenderly, but Vane was a picture of contemplation in contrast, stern lines crossing his usually sunny face. Tearing himself away from him, Vane dragged his body upright to stand, but still he didn’t let his eyes fall off Lancelot’s form. 

One look at his face, one thought in his head; before he had lifted Lancelot into his arms and he was holding him close, holding him tight. Past his initial surprise, Lancelot only moved to loop his arms round Vane’s shoulders, to aid him in the endeavour of plucking him from his home. As Vane marched back to the village, neither of them said a word, a silent agreement that this was now happening.

Lancelot wasn’t exactly light in his arms, perhaps it was his tail that added to his weight, but Vane continuously reminded himself to regulate his breathing. He needed to remember not to panic as he made his way through the pitch black woods through memory alone. At least, he had the sense to bring a torch with him, but that was only because that was included in his usual safety precautions. Among those usual emergency items was a first aid kit, but Vane would rather not think about either of them getting injured now. As the sweat built up on his forehead and trickled down his face, the knowledge that it was Lancelot in his arms spurred him to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

“I really should have planned this better…” Vane said under his breath, full well knowing that he had planned nothing at all. 

He had at least made it through the first hurdle unscathed; the sight of the first lights of his village a welcome boon in his heart. Years and years of scampering through that route as a child made him aware of where monsters hid in wait, though admittedly he had never tested this knowledge by skirting with the unknown of nightfall. 

The streets were empty as Vane entered the village. The village did have a tavern, but judging from the lifelessness of the streets, he must have took hours, and nary a soul would be up this late at night. No one except him, with his impulsive idea of bringing home a merman from the sea. 

There was still the night patrol to worry about, but having done that route himself, he knew the blind spots and where to hide. As Vane took advantage of his knowledge, he mused to himself how dangerous it would be if anyone in the townsguard suddenly turned against them all – hypothetically, of course. It was a good thing everyone knew everyone. The townsguard was small, enough to defend their own village, absolutely outranked by the Order of the Black Dragons somewhere away in the capital however. 

At last, Vane made it home, letting his arms and legs finally give out only when he had reached the bathroom upstairs. His first course of action, after realising that Lancelot was actually within the walls of his house, was to run the bath and place him back into the water. It wasn’t particularly luxurious and even he had to tuck his legs in when he was in the bathtub, but Vane didn’t really know how long Lancelot could cope without water. Sure, they had often sat upon the shore and Lancelot didn’t need to constantly dip his tail in water, but just to be safe. 

Lancelot seemed happy at least, the end of his tail hanging out of the bath as he blew bubbles under the water – that was until Vane made to leave, ready to mould the idea of collapsing onto his bed into reality, but Lancelot grabbed hold of his arm before he could. 

Vane whipped round, “Hmm?”

Lancelot stared at him, excitement clearly brewing behind his face, gesturing for him to lower his head. Vane obeyed, unsure what he wanted, when Lancelot hopped up and merely kissed him on the lips. 

The suddenness of it all made Vane jump back, his face flushing red. He stared back at Lancelot in the water, merely a coy look on his face; and Vane sank to his knees in a sigh that deflated his lungs. He let his hands dangle in the water, and Lancelot took the opportunity to grab hold of them instead. 

“Guess I really did this, huh Lan-chan…?” Vane flicked his eyes up and found himself lost staring at his face. He really was in his house. He was no longer framed by the open blue skies, he was closed in against the tiles of his bathroom. But he seemed happy, he looked happy.

With a giant huff, Vane leapt to his feet, only to bend back down, where Lancelot met him in the middle, kissing him gently, in a slow moment that confirmed their circumstances to each other. Vane pulled back begrudgingly, eyes still lingering on Lancelot, before he turned and gestured about how he would sleep.

“Good night…” Vane said softly. 

That would become their ritual for the night, now that they actually spent them together instead of apart.

* * *

“Here it is!” Vane grinned wide, “Sorry it took a while… The blacksmith’s never really made anything like this, but I figured if I made it myself, it wouldn’t be as good as a pro…”

Vane stepped back, letting the wheelchair take centre stage as Lancelot clapped his hands together in delight. He lifted Lancelot into his arms, Lancelot holding his shoulders steady, in a gesture now familiar to them. He had felt guilty that Lancelot had only seen the walls of his house for so long, and to finally place him in the wheelchair made Vane beam. 

“Is it comfy?” Vane asked, watching Lancelot’s face for signs. 

Lancelot shuffled here and there, but there was an obvious discomfort that he seemed to be trying to hide. 

“Oh… Oh, your fin…” Vane mused quietly, his hand following the curve of Lancelot’s rear as he pushed him up. There was a pause as Lancelot squeaked, the two turning to stare at one another in quiet. As Vane watched Lancelot’s face bloom in colour, the cogs in his head slowly turned, and he immediately darted his hand away with his realisation, “Sorry! I’m really sorry! I didn’t think…”

Lancelot tried to give a reassuring smile, but that didn’t subside how awkward he felt. Suddenly he was very conscious about where his hands went as he lifted Lancelot out of the wheelchair and back onto the sofa. 

“Guess I have to modify it in the end, huh?” Vane said to himself, “I think if I just move this forward… That’s still stable, right?”

It took the latter half of the day, but by the time night had fallen, Vane had figured out how to make it more comfortable for someone without regular human features. It was a total guess off the blueprints he had given the blacksmith, by someone who only knew how to do simple fix it jobs, but at least he hadn’t made it fall apart. Last thing he wanted was Lancelot getting hurt. 

“Excuse me…” Vane muttered, catching up Lancelot into his arms again, even though he had done this many times before without feeling so self conscious, “Is it better?” 

Vane both shook and nodded his head, waiting for a response, and was relieved when Lancelot gave him a firm nod of his head. 

“‘Course, there’s the trouble of your fin sticking out now, but if you just wear one of my sashes round your belly… Oh, and lemme give you this while I’m here…” Vane said softly, tying a belt with a concealed dagger around Lancelot’s groin, before covering everything with his sash. Everything was fine, until he realised Lancelot was growing red, “You remember how I taught you to… D-Did I do something wrong again?”

Lancelot shook his head, though he kept it down, the cheeks on his face flushed pink. Vane was however crouched down at his tail fins, able to stare up at his face as he deliberately avoided eye contact. Vane watched him quietly, his hands lingering where they were as he tried to scrutinise his face from below, when Lancelot grabbed hold of him and gave him a fright, but still he seemed to be avoiding his gaze.

“Lan-chan?” Vane said at last.

Lancelot turned at the sound of his name, only in the opposite direction, his face burning. 

“Hey…” Vane said quietly, slowly standing up. He leaned forward as he lingered close to Lancelot’s face, his hands against the wheelchair seat. 

Being unable to communicate sometimes had its perks, Lancelot often giving him kisses to show his affection, so Vane wasn’t surprised when Lancelot pulled him in close. Lancelot took almost every opportunity to convey his feelings in this conveniently wordless gesture; but something Vane was still getting used to was Lancelot’s aggressiveness, times when he’d pull him in off guard and part his lips, taste his tongue. He had been separated from the ocean so long that he no longer tasted so strongly of salt, something settling into sweet with all the pastries he was fattening him up with. It was thus a good thing that Lancelot tried to mimic his workouts, steadfastly attempting push ups without legs. 

There were a lot of things that had changed about Vane’s routine now that he had someone living with him and his cat in such an empty house. 

“Lan-chan…” Vane breathed, before he pulled himself away. It was so abrupt that he had to quickly wipe his lips of his spittle, his face burning as he did so. Lancelot stared up at him, eyes wide, but Vane avoided his gaze as he turned away, “Sorry, lemme give you a shirt…” 

He made his retreat as fast as possible, conscious of how much his ears were burning. As soon as he had reached his room, Vane ran a hand through his hair, a long sigh heaving from his lungs. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, but still, he was distracted by his heart thudding in his ears, the strain at the groin of his trousers. He hadn’t truly realised how physically he had been handling Lancelot up until now, and he tried to stop the flood of memories from overwhelming him with his new perspective. 

He sat still on his bed for a moment, head in his hands, before he shot back up to rummage through his wardrobe. He wasn't sure how long he had took, but when he rushed down the stairs, he had a bundle of shirts in his arms. He was a fairly tidy person, but at least he could find a few shirts he had been meaning to throw away, but couldn’t out of sheer sentimental value. 

Knocking open the door with his foot, he was greeted by Lancelot, his head perking up from watching Vane’s cat in his lap. It seemed that Vane had took long enough for Lancelot to have tried moving around in the wheelchair, and his prize was now the fluffball known as Mut, formerly in the other room, now purring away atop his lap. 

They got along remarkably well, as well as a cat and a man who was half fish did. Vane hadn’t really thought about how the two would interact when Vane had kidnapped Lancelot, being otherwise preoccupied with not getting caught. Mut was particularly fond of batting at Lancelot’s tail fins, and Lancelot liked entertaining him, flicking it up and down for him to catch, perhaps as a form of exercise for him. At least, it meant he wasn’t lonely when Vane had guard duty. 

“Try these on!” Vane said, forcing out a grin over his nervousness. It seemed that no matter how long he took to calm himself, everything rushed back as soon as he saw his face. 

Lancelot quickly roused Mut from his ball, the cat leaping off to dejectedly sulk in a corner of the room. As soon as Vane had placed his shirts onto Lancelot’s lap, he spun on his heel, making the excuse to tend to Mut. 

“Vane…” Lancelot called softly once he was done. 

If he was flustered before, Vane had no idea what to call this feeling rising up in his throat, as he gaped at Lancelot wearing his shirt. He had wondered how big they would be considering their size differences, but the glimpse of his neck and collar bone framed by his own clothing made Vane want to immediately run out the room and dunk his head into an entire bucket of ice cold water. 

Quietly, Lancelot lifted his shirt, tucking his nose under the collar to bury his face in the fabric, a glimpse of his stomach showing underneath. Vane was frantically trying not to let it all go to his head, when Lancelot closed his eyes and let out a very soft, “Vane…”

Lancelot had always been naked. This whole time. All these years.

That one thought struck Vane down to his knees, and he staggered on the spot. Lancelot jumped in surprise, immediately wheeling himself forward. 

“Vane!” Lancelot yelped, catching his hands in an attempt to get him back to his feet. 

“H-Huh?” Vane let out feebly at Lancelot’s tail fins. He gazed at Lancelot’s worried expression, dazed as he tightened his grip on his hands. It seemed odd to him how ordinary Lancelot looked now with his torso covered – and if he ignored his tail. If he kept his webbed fingers together, no one would be the wiser. 

Lancelot pursed his lips, unable to vocalise his worries, opting instead to rub his thumbs against Vane’s knuckles. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay…” Vane said, springing up from his heels to give Lancelot a peck on the cheek, “See?” 

It didn’t change Lancelot’s expression, his eyebrows furrowed together as he gazed into Vane’s face. Vane found himself flustering as he tried to avoid seeing him worry so much about him. 

“A-Anyway, I was talking about the dagger before, wasn’t I? Remember how to use it?” Vane spluttered, giving Lancelot’s hip a hearty tap. 

Vane’s preferred weapon was a halberd, but it was always handy to know how to use other weapons when the situation called for it. The dagger that Lancelot unsheathed was a standard issue from the townsguard, nothing too fancy about it, especially considering it was meant to be concealed. Vane had only taught him how to use it a few times, but Lancelot demonstrated several stabs and slashes with such confidence that Vane felt a certain reassurance the weapon now belonged in his hands.

“Yeah, yeah! You’re a natural, Lan-chan!” Vane said, clapping and making Lancelot’s cheeks redden in embarrassment, “I hope you don’t have to use it, but always just in case.”

As Lancelot quickly sheathed the dagger back into its scabbard, Vane stepped forward to stroke his hand down Lancelot’s hair, prompting him to immediately look up. He had been overwhelmed with his fondness for him, but when Vane made to step back after having his moment, Lancelot caught his arm. 

“Hmm?” Vane said, “What’s wrong?”

Without another word, Lancelot smoothed his hand up his forearm, to his biceps, his touch sending a shiver throughout his entire body. With his free hand, he made a gesture, which Vane had quickly learnt was a signal for him to lean down. His usual reward for obeying was a kiss, slow and steady and soft; but as Vane held Lancelot’s face in his hands, he already knew that this wasn’t the usual sign of affection. 

“Lan-chan,” Vane gasped against his mouth. 

He could feel Lancelot’s breath quickening along his, his hands falling from his face to trail down his neck, his shoulders. If he pulled down just a little bit, his shirt would slip off, and more of his skin would be exposed. Something about him being covered now made the glimpse of his flesh more enticing, something about the way their kisses were feverish made his hunger more apparent. As Vane’s hands cupped Lancelot’s bare shoulders, he breathed hard as he swallowed up his moan. 

“Vane…” Lancelot whispered, his fingers tugging at the ends of Vane’s short hair. 

“Lan-chan…” Vane mumbled against his lips, an impulse calling him down to nuzzle his face against Lancelot’s neck, tasting the delicate skin there for the first time since he had moved in with him. 

Lancelot fell back against his wheelchair, dragging Vane with him as he pulled him into a tight hold, Vane balancing himself against the armrest as he began to suck against his skin. He felt Lancelot shiver, a hand claw down his back, the hum of his chime as he slipped back into his own tongue. Vane was just about to tug his collar down even further, when just out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something move. 

“Woah!” Vane yelped, springing back to avoid the cannonball of white fur, only to tumble down onto his tush with a pathetic groan, “Hey, Mut…” Vane mumbled, watching Lancelot pet the cat now perched proudly in his lap. The rest of Vane’s shirts seemed to have made his lap even more comfortable, Mut immediately closing his eyes as he purred in satisfaction. 

Vane had to laugh when Lancelot caught his eyes. 

“We should sleep too… Big day tomorrow!” Vane said as he picked himself up off the floor and stretched out the rest of his embarrassment away. 

Though, it was always easier said than done, because he found he couldn’t quite fall asleep so easily. Over and over, that scenario played in his head, the possibility of going further with Lancelot, if Mut hadn’t interrupted him, if he hadn’t purposefully stopped himself. He breathed hard. Vane was left thinking about how Lancelot would feel like, taste like, sound like. A gasp later, a hitch of his hips, and Vane breathed hard. 

“Lan… chan…” Vane whispered into the emptiness of his own bedroom.

For a moment, he was still, nothing but his own panting in the silence.

* * *

The morning after, Lancelot was already up and early when Vane came to fetch him from the bath. Usually, it was Vane who would wake him whenever he knocked on the door every morning, but today, he found Lancelot listlessly gazing up at the ceiling and wondered if he had gotten any sleep either. 

Everything was normal, as Vane carried Lancelot out after they had both brushed their teeth and washed their faces. Vane remembered when Lancelot had watched him in confusion their first morning together in the bathroom, and now Lancelot was performing daily rituals alongside him like he had been brought up doing them too.

Everything was normal, as Lancelot caught Vane’s arm after he had placed his pancakes on his plate, and Vane was left staring at him and his lips. There wasn’t a word exchanged between them, but after a brief pause, Vane lowered his head to kiss him, tucking Lancelot’s hair behind his ear. 

Everything was normal.

“First person I want you to meet… is someone really important to me,” Vane said brightly after he had double checked Lancelot’s blankets were wrapped firmly around his tail. He hoped it wouldn’t get too warm for him there, but at least it was only in the middle of spring and it was kind of chilly out today.

It would always have been a risk to take Lancelot out in a village where everyone knew everyone and nothing really changed day to day. He expected ogles and stares, whispers and rumours, but all he got was an occasional extra long glance. Perhaps it was the time of day and everyone was instead bustling about to their destinations, but Vane was certainly thankful that the short trip was an uneventful one. 

Luckily, his own destination wasn’t too far from his own home, and he wheeled round to the back garden knowing her schedule for the day. 

There, ever faithfully tending to her flowers, was someone who he owed everything to.

“Grandma…” Vane said softly as she noticed him standing there. 

“Oh?” She said as she straightened up. She stared at Lancelot for a second before smiling warmly, “It’s nice to meet you. Where are you from?”

For a moment, Vane merely watched the two in silence, until Lancelot tugged on Vane’s shirt and woke him up from his stupor. 

“Oh! He… He… uh… just can’t speak… Yeah!” Vane spluttered, “This is Lancelot, but I call him Lan-chan! He moved in with me a while ago, but I only just got the wheelchair made, so here we are!”

His grandmother watched quietly as the two gestured to one another, seemingly in another world of their own as they attempted to pass on their feelings to the other.

“Come with me, you two,” She said firmly, placing down her water can to venture inside. 

Vane instinctively flinched. He had always been a good kid and had never did anything that needed scolding, but he knew that tone of voice was for whenever she had something serious to say. 

Thus, he obediently followed her, bringing Lancelot into a house full of fond memories for Vane. He now lived back in his parents’ house, but this was where he spent his childhood after his parents had been prematurely taken from him. Like always, he was greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and the warmth of being home. The sofa here always made him sink into the cushions, the flowers dotted around were bright and lively and well cared for, and even as an adult in his twenties, he was welcome to always take a nap here whenever he felt like it. Nostalgia settled into his stomach and warmed Vane to the bone, as he sat down beside Lancelot. 

As they waited for the kettle to boil, his grandmother handed him a book she had gone on the hunt for. 

“Sign language?” Vane read out loud, flipping the book over in his hands. 

“Unfortunately, this is all I have… I’m not an expert myself, but…” His grandmother clasped her hands together as her gaze fell. 

“It’s alright! This is plenty!” Vane grinned, handing the book over for Lancelot to see, “…Grandpa, right?”

“Yes…” There was a pause, but before the air could get too heavy, his grandmother continued, “But you’ll have more of a use for it now. I think he’ll be happy.”

Vane turned to Lancelot, now enraptured by the diagrams within this slab of a book. He had to tap his hand to get his attention and Lancelot shot up his head in embarrassment, “I think Lan-chan likes it already,” Vane said, laughing. 

“Maybe if you two go to the capital, you’ll find more help…” His grandmother offered gently, “How have you been communicating so far?”

Vane blushed immediately, eyes flicking towards Lancelot, and then his lips. Lancelot merely cocked his head to the side, a smile on his face. Luckily, before this topic could be pursued any further, the telltale click of the kettle sounded from the kitchen and Vane shot up out of his seat out of habit. 

“I’ll go get that,” Vane said automatically, before he realised he’d be leaving Lancelot. He turned down to look at him, and Lancelot offered him a bright smile. 

“Go on then, Vane,” His grandmother chirped brightly, before she promptly got up and assumed Vane’s seat, “We’ll be fine.”

Vane hesitated for a moment; until his grandmother gently pushed him along, and he flushed pink when Lancelot nodded his head towards him as well. He stumbled towards the kitchen, sneaking the occasional glance backwards as the pair sent him off with matching mischievous smiles. 

It was still possible to listen to whatever was being said in the living room from the kitchen, but whatever they were talking about, they were doing it in whispers. Vane didn’t even let himself breathe as he strained his ears to pick up anything, but alas after a fair few minutes and the requirement to breathe, Vane let out a sigh as he set upon his real task. 

He peeked into the oven as he looked for the necessary cutlery, and discovered that the menu for today was baklava, to be accompanied by a beautifully pink rose tea. At her age, to still hand make filo pastry made a fond smile form on Vane’s face. 

He had lost himself in nostalgia when all of a sudden, he heard one of Lancelot’s telltale chimes, what could only be a bright airy laugh. Vane dropped everything immediately, sprinting into the living room, only to find himself being stared at by two pairs of wide eyes.

“Oh dear, Vane… Did you drink all the tea by yourself and now there’s nothing left?” His grandmother said sadly. 

“No! No, I mean… What are you two doing?” Vane spluttered, his eyes immediately darting to the open book in his grandmother’s hands. 

“We were looking at how cute you were. Lan-chan really liked this photo in particular,” His grandmother beamed with nothing but pride.

Vane scrambled behind the sofa, his eyes landing upon a photo where he had been dressed up as a knight for the school play. He was about to sigh in relief, when he noticed that right next to it was another younger Vane in pyjamas: a dog onesie that had been much too big for him, complete with paw pads and floppy puppy ears, but he was still glowing positively in happiness as he held the hood in place. 

“Lan-chan, no, stop, don’t look!” Vane cried, slapping his hands right over Lancelot’s eyes. Lancelot struggled for a moment, but Vane only bent down to hug him from behind, folding him over so he couldn’t see any more of this. 

“Go get the tea for us, Vane dear… Or I’ll show Lan-chan _that_ photo,” His grandmother stated calmly.

“Roger!” Vane saluted, immediately shooting upright and releasing Lancelot from his hold. 

He was quick as he followed his grandmother’s orders, his face reddening whenever he heard Lancelot’s bright laughter. His merfolk song was so distinct even a room away, and Vane softened for a moment, thinking about how it came out so naturally when he was laughing away like this, despite all their secrecy about his true nature. Vane tried not to trip as he hurried back with a tray of tea and treats, and immediately assumed the seat between his grandmother and Lancelot, to watch over what other photos were going to be revealed. 

“Vane… I apologise, I just wanted to indulge a bit,” His grandmother said gently, patting his arm, “You’ve never brought someone home before, and someone so beautiful and polite too… When are you getting married?”

Vane immediately choked on his tea, “W-What?”

“That was the purpose of this visit, right? You wanted my blessings?” His grandmother asked in genuine curiosity. 

“N-No! I just wanted to see you, Grandma. And to introduce you two…” Vane said, withdrawing into his embarrassment. 

“Are you not… dating?” His grandmother said – actually said out loud. 

“I…” Vane glanced at Lancelot. They lived together, they had kissed, he had certainly thought about him in some way or another, “I…”

“Oh dear… Was I assuming?” His grandmother said, a hand flitting to her mouth.

Vane was silent as he watched Lancelot’s face, “He’s… someone important to me. Someone I want to protect. Someone I… owe my life to.”

Lancelot turned to him, a warm smile on his face. Vane knew that Lancelot probably wouldn’t have understood what any of that meant, but he reached for his hand nonetheless, quietly filling in the gaps of his fingers with his. 

“…I see,” His grandmother said gently as she watched their hands together. 

They proceeded to talk well into the afternoon. Unfortunately, his grandmother was also rather adamant in showing Lancelot the rest of her photo album, proudly adding that she had boxes of them and that he was always welcome to come view them, even on his own if Vane was too busy to accompany him. Also unfortunately, she let Lancelot take a photo home with him. Unfortunately for Vane, it was the one where he was dressed up in dog pyjamas. 

As Vane turned to leave with Lancelot in front, his grandmother stopped him with a simple call of his name. 

“Vane…” His grandmother’s face was solemn, “Please be careful.”

At first, Vane only stared back, hesitation keeping him still, until resolve charged his smile, “…I will. Thanks, Grandma.”

* * *

“ _Hello_ … _Thank you_ … _Goodbye_ …” Vane gestured with his hands, following his memory instead of the book, and beamed when he realised he had gotten it right upon checking. 

Lancelot nodded. He was already ahead of Vane in his studies, throwing himself into hours of rote learning now that he knew there existed a language he could use to communicate. It allowed him over the hurdle of awkwardness during his attempts at vocalising human syllables, and he seemed a lot more comfortable now that he could reliably relay his thoughts at Vane. Whether Vane understood was another problem however, but they kept at learning the book together as best they could.

“Vane…” Lancelot said, as he smiled. It was the one word he almost always said out loud – though it was also his name that ended up being the first word he learnt to fingerspell.

Vane sheepishly giggled, letting his hands fall into the bathtub water. It was getting late already and it was almost time for bed, but the time passed easily whenever he spent it by Lancelot’s side. He had known that since their days sitting upon the shore, no matter how long ago that was. 

“Learning a new language is hard…” Vane sighed as he idly swished his hands in the water, “But it’s fun when I remember I get to talk with you more.”

Lancelot automatically nodded, before remembering he had a new language to communicate with. He lifted his hands out of the water to sign, “ _Me too,_ ” and beamed straight after. 

“You’re really smart, Lan-chan… and kind and gentle…” Vane blushed when he realised what was coming out of his mouth. He attempted to lift his hands to talk, letting a rain of droplets quietly fall into the water, “ _You’re…_ ” Vane lowered them back down before he had even tried, reddening as Lancelot giggled, a twinkling sound of bells. 

“ _You_ …” Lancelot began a slow movement of his hands, his eyes trained on Vane.

“You? No, wait… Me?” Vane blurted out, before realising he should use more of his hands, “ _Me?_ ”

“ _Are_ …” Lancelot signed, nodding.

Vane stared at him, awaiting his continuation, not realising that Lancelot had darted forward to peck him on the lips, until he found himself suddenly staring into Lancelot’s eyes as he lingered for a moment. He pulled away just as quickly, a smile dancing on his face, his hands back in the water. 

“W-What… what am I?” Vane yelped, leaping to his feet, smacking back the stool he had been sat on in the process. 

Lancelot placed a finger on his lips, barely keeping his grin concealed, as he leaned back against the furthest edge of the bathtub; but Vane wasn’t going to let him go without confessing what he was about to say.

“Lan-chan!” Vane whined as he wrestled with Lancelot to make him talk. 

The bathroom filled with Lancelot’s twinkling laughter, Lancelot barely making an effort to keep Vane off him; until there was a moment when the smile shrunk from his face and Lancelot suddenly stopped. 

“Lan-chan?” Vane called softly as he watched Lancelot take pause.

Lancelot shook his head, a sheepish smile sneaking back onto his face, before he made his gesture for Vane to lean down. Vane obeyed him as he always did, but Lancelot continued gesturing, to which Vane thought it meant that he should keep going down. 

When they were back at the shore, Lancelot would do this. He’d gesture to the ocean and Vane would be too afraid, and that was that, the end of the attempt. But this was his home, with a bathtub where he had to tuck his legs in, where Lancelot’s tail spilled over the edge. 

Lancelot sank down into the water, and out popped a hand, beckoning him to come forward. Vane hesitated, staring at the blur of Lancelot underneath the water, until he huffed at himself and grasped at Lancelot’s hand. A stream of bubbles floated up to signal Lancelot’s delight, Lancelot holding Vane’s hand tight as Vane steadied himself above the water. 

After a count of three, he took a deep breath and plunged his head into the bathtub. 

There was a song. There was no other way to describe it. It sounded like Lancelot’s usual chimes, but underwater: they were beautiful, haunting, something inexplicable. Through the murk of the water, he thought he could see Lancelot watching him, his gaze gentle as he sang to him. He seemed to be trying to talk to him, and even though the chimes were purer underwater, they still made little sense to Vane’s human ears. 

Vane gasped as he resurfaced, chest heaving as he sucked in mouthfuls of air. There was a barely audible swish of water as Lancelot sat up with him. He leaned forward, anticipation sparkling in his eyes. 

“I’m… sorry…” Vane shook his head, mistakenly flicking droplets of water out from his wet hair, “I don’t understand…”

He didn’t get to finish his thought, Lancelot leaning forward in that small space to kiss him. Vane teetered on the tips of his toes, but Lancelot was dragging him down, much more aggressive than usual; until Vane finally lost his grip against the edge of the bathtub and he fell into Lancelot’s arms, a cascade of water swarming out of the bath when his weight plummeted down against its surface. 

Vane scrambled about to get a better position, a better understanding of what was happening. He had closed his eyes for the impact, only stopping his flailing when he realised that Lancelot was holding him tenderly to his chest. 

Vane froze.

The water had made his hair cling to his face, black curls against snow white skin, a frame around those blue eyes he would always lose himself in. A water droplet followed the curve of his cheek down from his eyes to his lips. 

He was breathtaking. 

Lancelot cocked his head, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a smirk. 

Vane suddenly awoke, swallowing hard as he tried to get up, but Lancelot was still holding him tight and Vane only managed another frantic splash in a bathtub too small for them both. He paused for a moment, contemplating how to rid himself of his burning face; when he noticed Lancelot’s hard gaze on him, staying still as Lancelot leaned forward in that small space. 

Lancelot captured up his lips again, moving his hold round his back up to his face, to push back his wet hair. Vane breathed hard, unable to stop his moan into Lancelot’s mouth, moving his hands to get a hold on Lancelot himself. Lancelot was naked whenever he went back into the bathtub, and he used that to his advantage as he leant back, exposing his neck for Vane to claim, and Vane easily took up that bait, his lips sucking against his wet skin. With a quiet sigh, Lancelot pulled Vane down with him as he sunk down into the water, clearly forgetting that Vane couldn’t breathe underwater, when Vane resurfaced with a splutter, panting hard as he watched Lancelot underneath him. 

It seemed to have shocked him into his senses, Vane pulling himself out of the cramped bathtub where their limbs had tangled together to compromise. He half expected for Lancelot to catch his wrist as he always did, but he was able to step out of the tub without being stopped. As Vane bemoaned how he was drenched from head to toe, he shrugged his wet shirt off his shoulders and held it up to the light to inspect the soggy mess. He turned back to face Lancelot to speak again, but the way he was staring at him, dispelled every thought in his head. 

He could feel his cheeks flood with colour, Lancelot’s gaze nothing but intense; but not a word came out of his open mouth. Instead of following through with his intention to wring his wet shirt over the sink, he merely abandoned it to the side, gathering up a towel as he made his ungraceful exit. 

“Good night… Lan-chan…” Vane said quietly, face half hidden in the towel as he avoided his gaze.

He didn’t sleep well that night either.

* * *

By the time they left for Feendrache, Lancelot had gotten used to the village. Of course, the initial stares were hard to get used to, but they were never the shunned disdain he had feared. It was children who stared the longest, but Vane was a natural with youngsters of all temperaments and they easily became fascinated with whatever distraction he came up with instead. Vane, in his adulthood, was much too friendly to make many enemies, and the village soon accepted Lancelot as one of their own, if not only because of his association with Vane. It was always a precarious balancing act of pretending to be human, but no one seemed to mention that the merman no one had believed in when he was a child was right in front of their eyes. 

In fact, to Vane’s dismay, Lancelot’s tactic to warm people up was to whip out the photo he had of him, and everyone would gather in awe at how Vane used to be so small and cute. Vane would splutter into incoherent sentences and his friends would hone in on him like wolves, but their teasing only meant they were happy for him finally finding someone. Vane would automatically answer back to the contrary of course, but his obliviousness only provided another easy platform for teasing. 

Still, Vane was certainly thankful that Lancelot had melded in so easily, though he supposed that was also the nature of his village and its friendliness. He hoped the capital would be just as accepting. The population was certainly bigger and the traffic was heavier; even though friends who had moved there had also said they were lonelier despite all the people. As they sat side by side in the carriage, Vane was so deep in thought that Lancelot had began rubbing his arm to soothe him.

“I’m okay,” Vane said, moving his arm so that he could hold his hand instead. He stared for a moment, quietening upon glimpsing his webbed hand underneath the gaps between his fingers. 

Sensing the concern hidden underneath his expression however, Lancelot leaned in to nuzzle his face against his, and Vane spluttered in surprise. 

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” Vane said, laughing as he backed up before Lancelot’s hair ended up in his mouth. He softened as Lancelot settled onto his shoulder, feeling his heart ache as he pulled him in closer, “I’m okay…”

The carriage ride was quiet after that, Vane letting Lancelot nap against him as the rest of the coach chattered away. It wasn’t the most luxurious of rides considering Vane’s budget, but at least they were on their way to a holiday together. Lancelot had long seen all there was to see in Vane’s village – and life was slow there, to put it mildly. It suited his pace perfectly, but Vane didn’t pluck him from the ocean for him to merely rot in his house.

As the castle crept into view, Vane nudged Lancelot awake ever so gently. He looked this way and that as he stirred awake, idly staring at Vane’s face for a moment before Vane grinned and pointed out the window. 

Lancelot’s eyes lit up as he slowly realised what he was seeing. A bastion of chalk white stood imposing against the clear blue skies, its grandeur overlooking the bustling town like a protective patriarch. The carriage would only take them into the town and then they’d have to make special arrangements to see the castle; but it was still a hard to miss landmark that signalled they were approaching their destination. Other new visitors began to similarly gape at the sight, and Vane grinned as Lancelot briefly turned to him with stars in his eyes. Vane had already seen this before, during the occasional visit, so he quietly watched Lancelot’s face as he gawked out the window. 

He had always gone to Feendrache when he had no other choice – he had never really wanted to leave the shore, after all. It was thus his first time seeing Feendrache decked out in festivities: banners and streamers in multiple different colours, crowds packed together like sardines as they flitted from stall to stall. He suspected by how full the carriage was that there’d be travellers from all kinds of towns coming in, and this unpredictability was his major cause for concern. 

The crowds certainly weren’t making it easy for them to navigate, people bumping into Lancelot with varying degrees of politeness. By the time they had checked into their inn, Vane was already partially exhausted.

“I wonder if I’d ever get used to living in a town like this,” Vane mused quietly as he leaned out the window and felt the breeze against his skin. When he heard the bathroom door open, he perked up excitedly, “Lan-chan, come see the view!”

Lancelot joined him quietly after he had refreshed himself in the bathroom. The carriage had taken days upon nights, and though Vane had kept a hefty supply of food and water on him, being too far away from a water source was never ideal for merfolk. He was much brighter now as he sat next to Vane at the table, the noon sun illuminating their room. 

“Right now would be in time for the anniversary of Fafnir’s defeat. It’s when the Captain of the Order of the Black Dragons defeated a terrifying dragon,” Vane explained, narrating as he drew little cartoons in a notebook he had given Lancelot, “Wonder how he’s like… I’ve heard people say Captain Siegfried’s really kind.”

Lancelot stared in absolute wonder at the little blob of a man Vane had drawn. He pointed excitedly at him and signed, “ _Where can we meet him?_ ”

Vane shook his head as he laughed, “I’d like to meet him too one day, but it’s gonna be hard,” Vane continued talking with his hands instead, “ _We can see him… at the festival!_ ” 

Lancelot wilted slightly, his hands in his lap, which only prompted Vane to lean forward to kiss him on the cheek. Lancelot looked up then, an accusatory stare, and Vane had to laugh as he moved back in to kiss him on his lips.

“Anyway, let’s see the bathroom for a moment!” Vane said, pushing himself out of his chair.

He didn’t have many expectations when he opened that door, but to see such a small bath, even compared to the one back home, made his heart plummet. Vane peeked back out of the bathroom, prompting Lancelot to look up from his notebook. 

“ _The bath… is small…_ ” Vane signed to him as he approached the table.

Lancelot stared up at him for a moment, a smile on his lips, “ _I know._ ”

“Then…” Vane said weakly. He watched as Lancelot turned his head to stare longingly at the bed, “What? Share the bed?”

Lancelot didn’t look at him, but he was certainly twirling his hair round his finger, a hint of mischief in his coy smile.

“I-I mean I booked a double bed to not be suspicious, but…” Vane mumbled, as he stood there contemplating. He turned to glance at Lancelot, which turned out to be a mistake, because Lancelot was now looking up at him, his face shining in hope. 

For a second, the thought of waking up to Lancelot flashed through his mind and he almost overheated, his mind spinning with thoughts he had to shake out of his head immediately. 

Lovers did that kind of thing. Sure, they lived together and kissed and Lancelot inspired a certain brand of thoughts that originated from his groin – but actually, Vane still hadn’t decided what he considered Lancelot. Important, yes, but together in a bed – Vane brought his hand to his face to disguise the blush on his face, even if it had already crept its way over his ears. He could already hear his friends teasing him back home.

“W-Well, let’s see. It can’t be that bad, right?” Vane said out loud, even though he already knew the answer.

Lancelot was so still in his arms that Vane could tell he was eager to be carried. He already knew what would happen as he delicately tucked Lancelot into bed and wiggled into the covers next to him. Lancelot’s radiant smile inches away from him shot straight down his body.

It was absolutely bad.

“I’ll sleep in the bathroom!” Vane spluttered as he tumbled out of bed. 

Demonstrating his prowess as the epitome of grace, Vane untangled himself from the covers he had dragged down with him, and sprang right up to march away; only to stop in his tracks when he felt a grip on his arm, and looked back at the perpetrator. 

The covers draped loose around his waist, Lancelot’s ever blue eyes stared up at him, and Vane found himself staring – wanting. 

Bad, bad, bad, bad. 

Vane collapsed down to his knees, feeling the power drain entirely from his body. A question he had been avoiding lingered on the tip of his tongue; but if they were sleep together in a bed, he had to prepare himself for the consequences. 

“Lan-chan… Do you… Do you consider me…” Vane said quietly, lifting the hands firmly on his knees only to sign, “ _A partner? Equals?_ ”

Lancelot stared down at him, still sat up on the bed. It was a rather refreshing perspective. Not hiding his confusion, Lancelot nodded as he tucked his hair behind his ear.

“When… When two people sleep together…” Vane mumbled, cheeks flooding with colour and forcing his head down, “Argh, what am I saying?”

Lancelot was still staring at him, and Vane knew the moment he had heard himself that he should not have said all this, while fuelled by his inadequacy; but his mouth was moving on its own and it was producing words – syllables – that he knew were a bad combination, that simply fell out of his lips. 

“Um… I guess… I know we started… this… while I’m a lot older, a lot bigger, but hmm… _How old are you?_ ” Vane ended up signing without knowing anything more complex than this phrase.

Lancelot softened, though he still paused as he tried to figure out how to sign what he wanted to say next, “ _I’m immortal… Unless I am killed._ ” 

Vane shot up onto his feet, “W-What are you saying?”

He felt Lancelot’s gasp as he swept him up into his arms. It wasn’t the answer he had needed for his clumsy question, but that gesture was made so casually that it sent chills down Vane’s spine. He squeezed him tight and Lancelot had to quickly tap his back, Vane releasing him in a panic when he realised what he was doing. 

There was a tense pause as neither knew what to say to the other. Vane only lifted his head when Lancelot tried to reassure him with a gentle hand over his, a smile to greet him when he finally saw his face. His original worries seemed so juvenile now that he was faced with the prospect of losing him too. 

“ _I’ll be okay because I’m with you,_ ” Lancelot signed, before ending with a smile.

Vane was speechless. He could feel his face redden even as he watched Lancelot’s smile fade in his fluster. Lancelot made to raise his hands again to speak once more, but Vane had caught them up into his own, and thrown him back into a hug that promised to never let him go. Alas, Lancelot had wanted to say something, and so he quickly tapped his back, and Vane finally let him talk. He kept his hands firmly on his knees as he waited, as Lancelot hesitated, quiet as he tried to piece together how best to word this with the simple vocabulary they both knew.

“ _I understand your concern… I know we met when you were a child… and I will always stay this way even as you grow old… but as long as you want me here, I will always be with you…_ ” Lancelot signed, pauses and hesitations for the times he struggled to word something, until he ended with a resolute stare, “ _So, please keep talking to me._ ”

“Lan-chan…” Vane breathed at last. 

Lancelot lifted his hand, a gesture reminiscent of Vane’s younger days, and Vane earnestly hooked his little finger onto his.

He was thankful for the crowds that swallowed them up once back outside. Lancelot was too distracted taking in all the sights and sounds, that he didn’t seem to notice that Vane kept a quiet watch over him.

They had planned the carriage trip to arrive on the morning of the parade, and considering the hassle they had already experienced, decided that it’d be a good idea to camp out a good spot to see everything. Vane had easily offered to carry him for a better view, but as Lancelot fretted about his tail, they concluded it was a bad idea after all. It did mean they couldn’t see too much on their first day, having to park in one spot, but they had still had more days to go; and they already knew that time passed quickly merely being by one another’s side. 

As the sky darkened and the bustle remained, Vane could already tell another difference between the capital and his village. Fairy lights strung alongside the bunting began to light up the streets like fireflies, as people settled into their spots against the parade barriers around them and the surrounding chatter set their anticipation alight. There seemed to be no fear of monsters upon the people’s lips; their fears dashed with the knights to keep watch on their fair capital.

Their first glimpses of the Order of the Black Dragons proved their courage had foundation. A man stood gallant at the head of the march following the musical procession. His ornate red armour stood as bold as flames against the darkness of the night, an air of confidence exuding merely from his presence. It seemed easy to mistake him for the Captain; but judging from the screams and shouts, this was ‘Percival’, the Vice Captain of the Order, with plenty of devoted fans of his own.

At his side was a man who appeared to melt into the shadows, his armour and cloak combining with his hair to form an amalgamation of darkness. Despite doing his best to escape the spotlight, he was still waving out to the crowds, brightening up whenever a small child jumped up to try and meet him, an innocent glow upon his cheeks framed in heavy black armour. 

It was when he caught Vane’s eyes did he realise that there was a light amongst all that black: the bright gold of his eyes almost startlingly inhuman. His eyes lingered on his face for merely a fraction of a second, the smile on his face vanishing in an instant when he moved his gaze to Lancelot. 

The man beside him – Percival – caught him almost immediately, calling out to him amongst all the noise; but Vane had already turned his own attention to Lancelot, who still stared mesmerised at – Siegfried – the man cloaked in darkness, seemingly unaware of that small blip in his expression.

For a moment, Vane grew lost in his own thoughts, but Lancelot turned to him, a smile brightening his face so sincerely that Vane told himself to enjoy the rest of the festivities that Feendrache had to offer.

* * *

The ceilings in Feendrache’s main library towered so high above them that Vane was sprawled on his back before he could get a proper view of the magnificent murals painted above. Meanwhile, Lancelot was so amazed at the sheer size of the entrance hall that he had rushed to and fro between the shelves, and was asked to quiet down. The subsequent bark of laughter that Vane produced also got them into trouble, and thus they were glad that the section they needed was on another floor away from this particularly annoyed librarian. 

He could feel his country origins haunt him as he wandered about the shelves with enough numbers to shame their humble village library. Lancelot remained enraptured however, and Vane could watch him for hours merely flitting between shelves. Alas, he couldn’t manovuer himself if he insisted on carrying that many books in his arms, and Vane volunteered his services in exchange for being able to gaze at his face later. Lancelot turned bright red in an instant, wheeling forward merely to headbutt him in the chest.

As it turned out, sign language was perfect in a place that required their silence; but Vane couldn’t help but add playful little taps against Lancelot to catch his attention, and their giddiness turned into play fighting which, unfortunately, turned into trouble with another librarian. They opted to use a private room for the rest of their study – since they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves – and Vane and Lancelot burst into laughter as soon as they had shut the door behind them.

“I’m not a quiet person!” Vane whispered as he plopped down onto his seat, “Oh, oh, I wonder if the people in the other rooms can hear us…”

Vane knocked against the wall, but if he expected to get an immediate answer back, he was clearly wrong because he was met with silence. He turned to find Lancelot watching him, a warm smile on his face that turned into a laugh when Vane had caught him staring. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll calm down…” Vane said, before immediately raising his hand and eagerly bouncing on his seat, “Teach me, Professor Lan-chan!”

Lancelot giggled as he wheeled himself to the table, opening the books Vane had set down to begin their task. They did indeed quiet down as they got further into their study, copying down diagrams and noting down further books to read, until they began practising practical application. They’d have to buy the books later, considering their origins were days of travel away and would make returning borrowed books difficult, but that didn’t mean they could not practice what they had learned so far.

“Remember all that time we spent on the shore doing homework? Man, school was so long ago!” Vane interjected in the middle of practice.

Lancelot paused to reminiscence, moving to his notebook to write down the word ‘Yes’, and grinned as he lowered the notebook down. They didn’t communicate too much in the written word since learning about sign language, but Lancelot had at least memorised his alphabet a while back. He translated his knowledge of the human word through sign, but Vane still lagged behind a bit on that front. Bits and pieces remained missing from their puzzle, but what they had together was time.

“You’ve done so much for me, Lan-chan…” Vane said softly, “You still are…”

Lancelot paused, his hands on his notebook in his lap. Vane watched him quietly, scanning his face before finally lifting his hands.

“ _Why did you save me?_ ” Vane signed to him at last.

Lancelot stared. It was quiet; just the two of them. He raised his hands, before he pursed his lips and simply shook his head.

“Huh?” Vane said. To have finally asked, after all these years, after the progression of their relationship as two fellow beings of this world, to accumulate with this answer, “There… There was no reason?”

Lancelot slowly shook his head, “ _There is no reason,_ ” Lancelot repeated in sign, “ _There is no reason required for you to carry on living. You carry on living, simply because you are still alive._ ”

* * *

“I’ve heard merfolk have the power to grant immortality…”

“Huh-” Vane glanced at the sudden newcomer to their table, and promptly spat out his beer, “S-Siegfried?!”

Siegfried paused for a moment, before calmly wiping his face with the cloak wrapped around his shoulders, “…Yes?”

“Oh no, oh no, I am so sorry!” Vane spluttered, leaping to his feet, before digging in his bag for a pack of tissues. 

“It’s quite alright…” Siegfried said, lifting a hand to stop him. He instead turned to Lancelot with a smile, “I’m intrigued by your friend.”

“Huh…?” Vane repeated, still overwhelmed by what was suddenly happening. It was approaching the end of their holiday, so they had decided to spend the night at a tavern – but nothing had prepared him for bumping into Siegfried of all people, or even, Siegfried coming to them especially, “What’s… going on?”

“Please sit back down, first of all,” Siegfried said, nodding towards Vane.

Vane, with a blank stare, lowered himself back down onto his seat, “But you’re Siegfried, right? Captain Siegfried of the Order of the Black Dragons?” 

Siegfried shifted his weight about, “…Yes? I’d prefer just Siegfried however.”

“W-What are you doing here?” Vane said, the surprise still not shaken from his veins.

“Taverns are nests for gossip,” Siegfried said, casting a gaze over the heavily populated tables, “…Where did you expect me to be?”

“Like… Like… I thought we’d never be able to meet you… ever! We saw you at the parade, and we thought that was it!” Vane said, turning to Lancelot who quickly nodded, and immediately turning back so he didn’t catch his expression, “This tavern’s too dirty for you! Get going to a ball or whatever they’re called!”

“I’m not… I’m not particularly good at those…” Siegfried said quietly. 

“But you’re Siegfried! The Dragonslayer! The Hero of Feendrache!” Vane cheered, positively glowing, probably a tad bit tipsy from drinking. 

Before Siegfried could answer to the contrary however, there was a growl of a voice behind him, and then, there was his imposing figure, as bright as flames – and looking as angry too. 

“Oi, Siegfried. I knew you’d run off here,” he called, before flicking his gaze down at Siegfried’s companions. 

“Percival!” Vane chirped, now meeting two heroes in one night. 

“Who are you?” Percival said, blunt as a rock.

“I’m… I’m honoured to meet you! You’re so cool! Like Siegfried’s cool!” Vane said, breathless in his excitement. 

“Siegfried, we need to go. How many more stray dogs-”

“You truly are my chaperone-”

“Dog?! You can call me anything you want, but Lan-chan’s not a dog! He’s-”

“Will you settle down, you damn mongrel?” Percival hissed, finally turning to him, “Before this whole tavern stares at us like we’re a show.”

“What’s your problem?” Vane said, up on his feet before he had realised it had happened.

“I have no reason to explain myself to you,” Percival said, a hint of anger burning under his breath.

“Because you have a-”

“If I may intervene,” Siegfried called over the din of the part of the tavern not watching the pair fight. Vane woke up in a cold sweat to his voice, suddenly aware that there was someone missing, “I’m already over here with your friend.”

Vane jumped when he realised that Siegfried was already at the tavern’s entrance. Lancelot waved back at him sheepishly, a hint of embarrassment in his smile. Ignoring Percival entirely – “Oi!” – Vane darted between the tavern tables to make his way over to the pair, and Siegfried inclined his head as a greeting.

“Lan-chan, I am so sorry!” Vane said, getting down onto his knees to hold Lancelot’s hands. Lancelot merely gave him a pat, desperately trying to stop his tell tale laugh. 

“What are you doing, Siegfried? We are meant to be elsewhere!” Percival barked, marching up to them in a clattering storm of angry armour. 

“I’d just like a moment with this… human… here,” Siegfried said, turning to Lancelot. Lancelot and Vane both turned up to him, Vane with his eyes wide, “If we may go somewhere quieter…”

The pair didn’t seem to particularly have a choice in the matter, and they followed him obediently, somewhat out of fascination, somewhat out of curiosity. Percival, meanwhile, had even less of a choice, bringing up the rear and keeping them in check; impatiently adding that he wasn’t interested in either of them and he was merely escorting Siegfried away the second they were done. He remained in silence as he lingered behind, but Siegfried was more than amicable as Vane revealed their backstories, chiming in to thank Percival for his ever constant watch. Percival merely snapped that Siegfried should be always be alert too, even if he already knew that Siegfried never slacked.

They arrived at their destination: a quaint coffeehouse a short distance away, apparently often the recommendation of Percival himself. Night owl scholars flitted about deep into their debates, a strange glance more at the armours of Siegfried and Percival, instead of Lancelot himself. Knights and scholars took such different routes in life that they seldom had chances to cross paths, but none made a stir in this house of equality; because even if the pen was mightier than the sword, the sword still cut through flesh. Not that they would raise a hand to them; Siegfried especially, but Percival – Vane was still sceptical. 

They settled into a corner of the room away from the rest, the scholars already isolating them to themselves; because it was intellectual knowledge they sought, not the inane gossip of the taverns next door. 

Siegfried clapped his hands onto his knees as they all sat down, “I must apologise for that introduction.”

Vane was already chugging his way through the jugs of water he had ordered, “It’s ‘kay. I probably overdid it…”

“More than overdid it…” Percival grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms as he sat next to Siegfried. 

“I heard that,” Vane mumbled, placing his glass down with a sharp smack. 

Before either of them could start anything however, Siegfried leaned forward, his arms against the table, “Your friend. He’s not…” Siegfried trailed off, but Vane remained silent, so that Siegfried was forced to say, “…human.”

Vane ran his finger round the rim of his glass, before lifting his head to look at Lancelot himself. Lancelot waved back, before lifting his hands.

“ _Indeed, I am not human,_ ” Lancelot signed.

Siegfried, however, stared at him blankly, “…I’m sorry… I didn’t understand you at the tavern, and I still don’t here…”

“He’s signing,” Percival said, as means of an explanation to him.

“Oh! Uh, I can help! He says ‘yeah’,” Vane explained quickly.

“I can’t believe you know sign language…” Percival grumbled, his fist tightening in his crossed arms.

“I’m smarter than you think!” Vane said, grinning wide and leaning back into the sofa seat. However, he had to leap right back into action as Lancelot began signing again.

“ _I’m a merman,_ ” Lancelot continued, and Vane repeated out loud (“I’m a – no wait, he’s a merman.”).

Siegfried didn’t react however, merely opting to nod; his gaze remaining on Lancelot.

“They’re considered a delicacy,” Percival added.

This, however, wasn’t something Vane had ever wanted to hear, “What did you say?” Vane growled, biting into his every syllable.

“I’m merely stating a fact. I have not personally partaken in merfolk flesh, but I have heard of their healing properties,” Percival continued, annoyed at the interruption, “There are men who would search far and wide for a chance at a miracle cure; they would kill for the ability to reverse death itself. You need look only at those who pray for Sylph.” 

“The merfolk population borders on extinct, mainly due to humans hunting their numbers down,” Siegfried continued for Percival, “We have no evidence of their flesh actually granting immortality, but a dream is enough to inspire action amongst our kind.”

Vane felt sick to the pit of his stomach. He stared at Lancelot, who only stared down at his hands in his lap. 

“You knew of merfolk, but weren’t aware of this?” Siegfried asked Vane.

“I only read about him in a book…” Vane said quietly. Hearing those words come out of his mouth reminded him of how little he actually knew.

“…Ah,” Siegfried simply said.

Percival had been simmering in quiet beside Siegfried for a while, and finally he opened his mouth, “Why exactly do you harbour one when you know nothing, mongrel?” 

“I… Well… Lan-chan is…” Vane said, at a loss for words. He turned to look at Lancelot again, but Lancelot still had his head down.

Siegfried hesitated as well, but when he next began to talk, it was much graver than his usual tone, “Vane… I want to ask… Are you doing this out of duty? A sense of debt? Responsibility?”

Finally, Vane put his head down. He didn’t speak the first word that came to his mind, he didn’t act on impulse as he always did – not when this was about more than just himself.

“I’m doing this because I want to,” Vane said at last. 

“…What exactly is he to you?” Siegfried asked.

“Lan-chan is…” Vane said. He looked at Lancelot, and Lancelot looked up, “Lan-chan is Lan-chan.”

Siegfried didn’t have an answer, only a quiet stare. 

“Hey, wanna know why I call him ‘Lan-chan’?” Vane said, finally brightening up as Lancelot took up his hand.

“I do,” Siegfried replied, a smile on his lips. 

Percival sighed loudly as he leaned back against his seat, losing all hope of them ever going back to the ball, before calling a waiter over to serve them their best artisan coffee.

* * *

Vane was thankful when they finally reached their inn. What was meant to be a night relaxing in a tavern almost turned into an interrogation of sorts, and they had ended up talking well into the night – though Percival had skipped out early, saying something about requiring sleep. It was his loss however, because Siegfried was a sight to behold after they had begun tavern hopping together. 

Vane stared at the contact information Siegfried had scrawled into Lancelot’s notebook when they parted; before letting his arm fall back onto the bed with a groan, Lancelot sitting in his wheelchair beside him, idly stroking his hair. 

It had been a long night.

“Huh? Don’t worry about it…” Vane mumbled, turning over to lean into his touch. He mused on why Mut liked Lancelot so much; there really did seem to be a technique to his petting. After a moment of continuous stroking however, Vane stirred himself awake when he realised that something seemed to be lingering on his mind.

“Can you believe Siegfried’s interested in training me? I’m only townsguard, but a knight! Imagine that…” Vane said, staring up at the ceiling. Lancelot didn’t seem to stir however, still lost in his thoughts.

“Lan-chan…” Vane said quietly, catching Lancelot’s hand and feeling him jump. He forced himself up onto his elbow, “About mermaid flesh making you immortal… Or well, merman for you… But… So, like… uh…” 

Quietly, Lancelot pulled up his sleeve, rolling back the fabric until his forearm was exposed, and then he offered Vane his arm. Vane stared back at him incredulously, pushing his arm back down onto his armrest. 

“No, no, I don’t care about that kinda stuff,” Vane said, as he shook his head, “I meant, uh… Lemme see… How to say this…”

Lancelot stared at him, before bringing his arm to his own mouth and miming a small bite. 

“No! I would never! What’s the point… if I… lose you…” Vane said, words failing him as he stared at Lancelot’s face. Quietly, he leaned forward to cup Lancelot’s cheek, and Lancelot nuzzled into his hand. 

They stayed like that for a moment, until Lancelot gestured Vane forward. Vane, assuming it was merely a kiss, sat up to bring his face close to his; but Lancelot had other plans, a smirk on his face as he swerved to lightly bite Vane’s cheek. 

“Hey!” Vane flinched back automatically, a pout immediately on his face, “Lan-chan?”

All Lancelot did was look up at him, tongue lightly licking his lips, and Vane stared back, unable to process anything.

“Lan… chan…?” Vane said, his eyes widening. 

It wasn’t like his cat was here to interrupt him. It wasn’t like they were in a cramped bathtub half filled with water. They had even slept together in the same bed now, Vane fighting his embarrassment so Lancelot didn’t have to sleep uncomfortably. He would always fall asleep with his back to him, only to wake up to discover he had been cradling him close. It had made their first morning in Feendrache interesting. 

“We should sleep, big day tomorrow!” Vane heard himself say. Lancelot stared at him quietly, his lips pursed. 

Vane watched as Lancelot pushed himself off his armrests, only coming back to life as he watched Lancelot push back against his wheelchair. He caught him just before he fell to the ground, but Lancelot stared at him so sadly that Vane froze. 

“Vane…” Lancelot said softly, before he had dragged them down to the floor. 

Vane spluttered as he tried to break his fall with his body, the covers of the bed tumbling down with him as he scrambled for something to hold. He hissed through his teeth as the pain numbed him through, only attempting to move when he felt Lancelot stir on top of him. He pushed himself up, the covers a white veil against his black hair. 

“Lan-chan?” Vane said quietly. 

Lancelot opened his mouth, but not a sound came out before he had closed it again. He attempted to sign, but he was unable to without both of his hands, and so they fell limply back into place on each side of Vane’s face. He hesitated for a moment before he settled back onto his own tongue, Vane mesmerised as he watched the movements of his mouth without knowing what it all meant. Every expression of his song looked decidedly sombre, but they were words and sounds that Vane did not know how to decipher. He was still staring up at him when Lancelot lowered himself down, a quick kiss on his lips, before settling into the crux of his neck. The covers were still draped over his head, his face now partially hidden from view.

Lancelot continued talking in his merfolk tongue, every chime pulsing through his body, and though Vane did not understand the meaning of anything he was saying, he could feel his sadness as he murmured into his skin. He offered him his support in the form of his hand against his hair, and certainly felt Lancelot pause to nudge and nuzzle against him; but somehow he knew that wasn’t enough. 

“…Vane.”

Vane perked up from stroking his hair and staring at the ceiling, noticing Lancelot push himself back up again. He stared down at him, his eyes reflecting how lost he felt, and felt the covers trapped against his back bunch into Lancelot’s fists. Something sharp, something pained was in that repetitive ringing of his voice, but Vane could only stare at the expression on Lancelot’s face. 

Out of his helplessness, Vane reached up, to brush his hand against Lancelot’s cheek, to sweep back his falling hair, to better look into his bright blue eyes. The shadow lifting from his brow, Lancelot jolted awake.

“Lan-chan is Lan-chan…” Vane giggled, before lowering his voice to a whisper, “Hey… I’m not that smart or special or talented, but thank you… for always staying with me, Lan-chan.”

Lancelot stared at him.

“I wish I could help you,” Vane whispered.

Lancelot lowered his head, his teeth grit tight, his hands balling back into fists. In his encroaching sleepiness, Vane was shocked awake when Lancelot turned his glare onto him; a rage that simmered beneath his complexion, not aimed at anyone else but himself. 

Before Vane could open his mouth to speak, Lancelot had swooped down, to kiss him again, and again, and again, until Vane had to tilt his head back to breathe, but Lancelot was already there, holding his head steady, to kiss him again and again and again. 

“Lan-chan!” Vane gasped, breathless in want, “What. What?”

“Vane…” Lancelot repeated, kiss after kiss, “Vane…”

Vane’s breathing grew feverish, Lancelot growing in his pace, kissing him from his cheek to decorate the line of his jaw. 

“Heavy…” Vane ended up groaning, when he had a fraction of freedom for his lips, “Sorry…”

Vane held Lancelot as he rolled him over, the covers now falling entirely to the floor; the position they were in slowly sinking into him. However his attempt at escaping failed when Lancelot held him tight, pulling him back into his arms with a smile. 

“Lan-chan, but…” Vane began with his feeble protest, but found he had no words to continue with.

Lancelot only shook his head, his hair spreading out against the white of the covers, his eyes focused on Vane. 

“Hey, Lan-chan…” Vane whispered softly. He didn’t get to finish that thought, gasping as Lancelot pulled him in towards him, nipping at his neck.

“Are you…” Vane said, before he finally took in Lancelot’s expression, his voice failing him as his face bloomed into red, “…sure…”

That single nod was everything that Vane needed to know. His inability to talk in his tongue merely translated out to his touch, Lancelot’s hands trailing from Vane’s face, down his neck, his back, to his ass. Vane jolted upright as Lancelot squeezed, his face absolutely burning as he slammed his hands above his head. He didn’t need to ask again, not when Lancelot said everything he needed to with one simple look. 

Averting his gaze, Vane quickly tugged his shirt over his head, shyly watching Lancelot’s eyes widen in response. His heart thudded in his ears as he laid Lancelot against the bed and its pillows, a shiver down his spine as Lancelot ran his hands up his chest, as Vane straddled his waist. His smile was radiant when Vane cupped his cheek, bringing back his hand to touch his, his eyes warm as he gazed up at him. 

He swallowed down the lump in his throat as he helped take Lancelot’s shirt off, as Lancelot helped him undress himself in turn. Lancelot didn’t seem to mind how slow he was taking, his smile never leaving his face as he watched Vane move, and used his hands to touch. 

“Lan… Lan-chan…” Vane said quietly, his face ablaze. His hand drifted down, past his skin to the scales of his tail, Lancelot rolling his body along to his touch. The hands he always used to talk were silent, as he trailed them up his back to touch, holding onto him tight as Vane leant over him. 

“Lan… Lancelot…” Vane whispered against his ear, Lancelot breathing hard as Vane kissed his hair.

* * *

“Lan…” 

Vane awoke that morning with his name on his lips, his eyes cracking open as he had to double check the sight before him. He had seen him naked before, because mermen didn’t need clothes like humans did, seen him in bed together, because he had wanted him to sleep comfortably; but something about waking up next to him after their night together, morning sun streaming through the curtains, made him appear almost ethereal. Without thinking, he brought a hand to touch Lancelot’s face, making him stir as he reciprocated his touch before opening his eyes. 

“Morning…” Vane whispered, mesmerised. 

Lancelot nodded, mimicking the gesture. He closed the distance between them by shuffling forward, a slow kiss upon his lips that stirred Vane awake, and promptly snuggled into his chest straight after. Vane let his eyelids flutter shut for a moment as he basked in Lancelot’s warmth, his arm against Lancelot’s back. They stayed still for a moment, until Vane felt Lancelot nibble against his neck, his hand trailing down his back. Vane gripped tighter around Lancelot then, kicking his legs as Lancelot began to suck against his skin. 

“Lan… Lan-chan…” Vane gasped.

As Vane felt a hand creep down to his ass, his eyes flew open, and he flung the covers up so he could tumble out of bed. 

“Break… Breakfast! I’ll go get up!” Vane spluttered, springing up before promptly realising he should have found his underwear first. He scrambled onto the floor, face beet red as he scooped up his scattered clothes from last night.

Lancelot laughed, a beautiful chime of bells, that unfortunately now reminded Vane of how he sounded last night. He tightened his fists, nails biting into his own skin, desperately trying not to think of how much Lancelot reverted back to his merfolk tongue when his mind was a muddle underneath him. 

“I’ll…” Vane began, but he shut his mouth as soon as he felt a grip around his wrist. 

Lancelot held him back, a simple smile on his lips, a coy tilt of his head. Vane stared at him, so that Lancelot had to take matters into his own hands, kissing the tips of his own fingers and holding them out for him in mid-air. 

“S-Sorry!” Vane dove forward, pushing a kiss onto Lancelot’s fingers, then lips so quickly that he bumped against his nose. He pulled back just as hastily, “I’ll… get you some more water…” 

He could feel Lancelot’s eyes on him as he walked around the room, so he shyly cast out a wave over and Lancelot responded with a little wave of his own. He already knew he was jittery, but watching his hand shakily lower his mug of tea onto the bedside table made him curse his own nerves. He perched himself on the edge of the bed, his back to Lancelot, to compose himself for a moment; before he felt Lancelot circle his arms around his waist and pull himself in for a tight hug. 

Vane swallowed, lifted his head to let out a deep breath, and turned right round, “How you feelin’?” Vane said cheerily, letting his hand fall down Lancelot’s hair to cup his cheek. 

Vane’s eyes began to follow the trail of his hand as it naturally fell over the curve of his body, Lancelot leaning into his touch with a heavy sigh. His hand drifted past a scattering of bruises blooming against his neck, to trace the curve of his shoulder and the line of his biceps, to fall down onto the dip of his waist as Lancelot leaned forward. Vane stared at the skin of his own hand, flush against the boundary line between Lancelot’s human torso and his fish tail.

Lancelot watched him quietly. Even without words, his stare always seemed to see right through him. 

“Lan… chan?” Vane said softly, watching as Lancelot nudged himself forward. 

Lancelot raised his hands, awkwardly hovering in the air without knowing what or how to say the words in his heart, so he decided upon pulling Vane’s cheeks.

“Lan-tan, ‘ey!” Vane tried to say as Lancelot moulded his cheeks as he saw fit, “Qui’ it…”

As soon as Vane smiled again, Lancelot mirrored him, immediately diving in to capture Vane’s lips before he could even react. Vane melted into his hands like butter, eyes closing as he savoured his taste, breathing in deep as he eclipsed his hands around Lancelot and pulled him in tight. He traced his fingers around the circumstance of his hips, feeling his scales alongside his skin. 

Vane felt his grip tighten; a gasp into his open mouth.

“Vane,” Lancelot mouthed against his lips. 

It was here that Lancelot deepened his kiss, his tongue parting Vane’s lips, his hands coming up to cradle Vane’s face. Vane gasped against his breath, his sudden aggressiveness breaking him out of his thoughts to focus on Lancelot in front of him. He had to whine when Lancelot pulled away just as suddenly, nudging forward only for Lancelot to comply and grant him a kiss once more. This exchange went on in a perpetual stalemate, Vane coming back in when Lancelot pulled away, Lancelot leaning forward when Vane would stop; until finally Vane grabbed hold of Lancelot’s hands tangled in his hair and pulled them away gently. 

“Okay, okay,” Vane laughed brightly, as he let his hands down to the bed, “I don’t wanna, but we really should get a move on. We gotta check out soon.”

Lancelot avoided his gaze, pink flooding his cheeks as he tucked his hair behind his ear. He lifted his hands, a bundle of hesitant gropes of thin air, until he settled with, “ _Did you like it? Last night?_ ”

Vane stared at him blankly, “Like what?”

Lancelot glanced up and then back down, “ _The… taste?_ ” His hands pausing alongside his hesitation. 

“‘Taste’? What taste…?” Vane furrowed his brow as he tried to decipher his vague wording. 

With no other words in his vocabulary, Lancelot flicked his eyes down and back; before he pulled Vane in, his hand ghosting over his groin, so that there was no mistaking what he had meant. Memories of struggling to find Lancelot’s genitalia flashed in Vane’s mind, and he flushed a deep red, his eyes fixed on his guided hand. 

“W-W-W-What?” Vane spluttered as his tongue and brain failed him, even though it was only last night when they had slept together, “I-Is it special? Merman… Um… That… is…”

Lancelot’s smile told nothing as he leaned in close, even as Vane felt that smile in his kiss, which trailed down to his neck, until Vane was pushed onto his back. 

“L-Lan-chan… We gotta check out… Lan-chan…” Vane whispered urgently, though he barely made an effort in moving himself. 

The look on Lancelot’s face as he leant over him – moments before crawling back to place his head between Vane’s legs – silenced every feeble protest he was even going to attempt. Vane gasped as his fingers twisted into Lancelot’s hair, his toes curling as Lancelot continued to taste him. 

They barely made it in time; but at least there was a warm afterglow in their bellies when they finally traipsed out the inn, the morning sun already high in the sky.

The carriage ride back was quiet as they listened to each other’s breathing amongst the sounds of travelling: horse hooves against the roads, the clacking of the carriage and the occasional bump in the road. Lancelot’s breathing was steady, snuggled against his shoulder, his fingers interlocked with Vane’s. 

“Say…” Vane said into the silence, his fingers tightening their hold against Lancelot, “Do you wanna see the sea again? It’s been a while, right?” 

Lancelot didn’t move, except to squeeze Vane’s hand.

* * *

“Lan-chan… I…” Vane breathed in deep, “Let’s go back to how it used to be.”

Lancelot gazed at the water, the sound of the waves against the shore haunting in the silence. Even as Vane lifted him from his wheelchair, he didn’t resist. He set him down against their usual spot on the shore, a place they hadn’t returned to since he had moved in with him. It was almost another era now; but months were nothing compared to years. The time they had spent together as partners was a mere drop in the ocean of time they had spent growing up together. 

Vane waited for him to move, uneasy with his silence, until he stood up and Lancelot finally lifted his head, only to be greeted with his back. Vane pursed his lips, unable to look him in the eye, only turning back when he heard a splash in the water.

He lingered there, watching Lancelot back in the sea. There was so much more space in the ocean; he would no longer be confined to the bathtub where Vane had to tuck his legs in, where his own tail spilled over. He had truly been selfish. He would be safer here. It was his home. 

Humans had dominated the ocean too; but surely those twenty years spent by the shore meant that Lancelot knew how to escape. They had survived twenty years with that routine, settled into a year with a new one, but the human world did not adapt for Lancelot. He had seemed happy to bend to its rules – but… 

But-

Lancelot cupped the sea water into his hands, dazzling against the waves dappled with sunlight, his features shaded against the sun.

He remembered all the times he had read to him, side by side on the shore, Lancelot resting on his shoulder; his visits over the years, only hindered by time and place. He remembered the first time they had met, the second time and the next; the curiosity reigned in by the ever cautious looks. Finding his loneliness mirrored in his eyes, and keeping him company so that they would not be alone. The merman was important to him: as a child, as a teenager, as an adult – as ‘Lan-chan’.

Everything made sense now. 

Ignorance was bliss – as the saying goes.

Then, he remembered the time he had kidnapped him from the sea, the way his eyes shone during the festival, how beautiful he was in the morning sunlight. Twenty years had passed with Vane flitting from the village to the shore; and yet somehow, they had done so many more things when they had moved in together. Once, they had sat side by the side on the shore, reading together, learning together; to become partners side by side in the village, reading together, learning together. He had learned another language, learned a way to read his heart. 

His lips. His touch. His voice.

They watched one another quietly, not a word between them, until Lancelot signed, “ _Goodbye._ ”

Then, he was gone. 

“Lan-chan!”

Without another thought, Vane had waded into the water. The cold water bit into his ankles, his legs, and clung to his clothes, but Vane only had one thought in his mind.

He had said to go back, to return back to normal; but all in the end, his weak human heart had still wanted Lancelot to stay. Because what was normalcy except something that was crafted into familiarity, and Vane knew better than learning how to give up.

The water roared in his ears, everything was dark. The pressure constricted round his throat, he wanted to throw up, his heart thudded in his chest. He didn’t know how to swim, he didn’t know how to swim. The ocean was vast, the depths were unknown, and he was an impulsive fool without a plan; but Vane knew no better than listening to his own heart. 

Fear chilled him to the bone as he remembered himself as a child. A child who had believed he would meet his parents again at the water’s edge. 

But like so many years ago, he noticed someone hold him. 

There had been a delighted smile brightening his face when he had noticed Vane in the water, that immediately turned into concern as he noted the distress on Vane’s face. He darted to his side, but he was much too big to be carried in his arms now. Lancelot grit his teeth, grabbing hold of his hand and hauled him back to the surface, where Vane immediately gasped for air. He flailed and coughed, but he knew Lancelot was there.

“Lan-chan, I’m dumb, I’m sorry-”

Lancelot kissed him, _hard_ ; not letting him breathe, not letting him think. Vane panted loudly as Lancelot pulled back, still feeling suffocated by the water against his neck, but he swallowed hard to finally be able to speak.

“I don’t want you to leave! I can’t go back! I’ll miss you, I love you,” Before Vane could even stop them, his words fell out of his mouth like a waterfall, the swell of his heart overwhelming his throat like a wave. 

Tears, one after another, dropped into the ocean to melt into ripples, and as Vane felt the soft touch of Lancelot’s forehead against his, his tears turned to sobs. He could see himself shivering and crying in Lancelot’s glassy eyes, but it turned out that tears were universal too, Lancelot mirroring him as he hugged him tight. 

“Vane… Vane…” Lancelot whispered, as he held him close.

In the vast emptiness of the ocean, Vane’s crying was swallowed up into nothing, no one else besides themselves to hear him. Lancelot stayed, as long as Vane wanted him to; and he stayed still, to hold onto him close and stroke his back with his hand, a wave of comfort calming him down from a swell to a buoy at sea, until Vane was silent and at peace.

Eventually, somehow, they made it back to shore; but all Vane knew right now was that he was idly stroking Lancelot’s hair as he lay next to him, side by side, on their usual spot on the shore.

“Vane…” Lancelot said softly, his hand against his cheek before he pushed himself up. Vane watched him move, before realising that he should sit up too.

Lancelot moved his hands in a flurry of movement, as assured as if he had rehearsed, without a sliver of hesitation now that he was finally doing this. 

“ _Vane…_ ” Spelling out Vane’s name was ingrained into him so much that he barely needed to think. 

“ _I love you, I love you, I love you. You’ve always been kind and warm. I want to keep looking after you, I want to be with you._ ”

Lancelot raised his head, and Vane did the same. 

“Vane…” Lancelot stared at him, all the feelings in his heart finally overwhelming him, and merely offered out his hands to let him speak.

“I…” Vane began, before he lifted his own hands, “ _I love you too!_ ” He finished and held onto Lancelot’s hands, “I’m sorry. I really am. I… I really should have talked to you, and I know I don’t know anything about immortality or whatever… But I… don’t want you to leave. I don’t know, I don’t know… I mean, if you want to stay – that is.”

Without a word, Lancelot took hold of Vane’s head. Vane stared back at him blankly, for this was not his usual gentle hold, when Lancelot pulled back his head and slammed it right down onto his. 

“Ow!” Vane yelped, flinching back, hands on his aching head. He gave Lancelot the biggest accusatory pout he could muster, but Lancelot huffed in response.

“ _Tell me next time. Anything on your mind. Talk. To. Me_ ,” Lancelot signed, giving him a stern look before proceeding to rub his head where he had headbutted him.

“Yes, sir!” Vane said with a guilty salute, and Lancelot laughed, a wonderful chime of bells.

With that now aired out between them, Lancelot gestured in his usual way for Vane to move towards him, and Vane obeyed: a prompt kiss on his lips as his reward. When Lancelot pulled back to take a small breath, all Vane did was lean back in to kiss him again. He didn’t know how much time had passed during this exchange, but what he did know was that he was, unfortunately, still human.

“Ah, sorry, Lan-chan, need to breathe. Not practising for underwater, are we?” Vane said, laughing as he pulled back. 

Lancelot stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, before tackling him and falling in a pile of laughter against the sand. 

“I was joking! Joking!” Vane spluttered, laughing as he wriggled out of Lancelot’s hold, “But… But if you want to teach me how to swim, I’ll learn how to stop being scared.”

His laughter was cut short when he looked into Lancelot’s face, a gaze so earnestly fond that Vane could feel his cheeks begin to burn. He stayed still as Lancelot lowered himself down, a kiss against his lips, over and over again, until Vane had to roll him over. He paused for a moment, watching and wondering about how clear his own reflection was in Lancelot’s eyes – when he had a sudden thought that snapped him into attention. 

“Sand… Sand…” Vane frantically muttered to himself as he sprang apart. 

They spent a moment laughing, sand stuck to just about everywhere, clothes slick to their own skin. They were a mess, but at least they were still together. 

The sun shone against Lancelot’s face; his bright, warm smile melting his heart. He was fascinating and beautiful and all kinds of other wonderful words – Vane had always known that – but as Lancelot leaned into his hand, Vane felt something bubble up from his heart: a feeling, a want, like the earth needed the sun. 

“Let’s make it work,” Vane said, “Even if the world works against us. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lancelot nodded, his feelings on his face, reflected from his heart, “ _Let’s go home – together._ ”

Vane beamed, “ _Thank you…_ ” He signed, before he connected his fingers with his, “…For helping me live.”


End file.
